Broken Smiles
by Eliana Panthera
Summary: Kate has always been extremely observant. //Kiva//


**Broken Smiles**

_I don't mind spending every day  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
She will be loved_

_-She Will Be Loved; Maroon 5-  
_---

Ziva was different.

Kate had always been an observant person, noticing little details about people that no one else ever seemed to pay attention to. Observation of the Israeli across the bullpen from her led Kate to the conclusion that Ziva had changed.

There was a faint ring of exhaustion and pain around her dark pupils, a thin, unnatural line in the chocolate-color of Ziva's irises. It was hard to see unless you looked for it. Kate found herself looking for it more and more everyday, wishing that it would fade. She wanted Ziva to feel at home, to stop hurting.

Smiles were something that Ziva could fake with the best of them. Kate caught every one of them, though. They were tinged with emotionlessness and distance, as if Ziva was no longer on earth. The faint twinge of hidden secrets in Ziva's broken smiles was something Kate despised. Secrets were good sometimes, but it wasn't right to keep them from the people who cared about you.

Crying. Ziva had never cried before (at least, not that Kate, Tony, or McGee had seen). Yet Kate had found her in the bathroom with the faintest, nearly invisible tinge of pink around her eyes, wiping her face with a wet paper towel. There was something about the way her head was held that showed Kate her Israeli partner was feeling weak and helpless.

No one noticed the signs, and Kate wondered how the hell they had become trained investigators. Ziva's pain was right there, and no one paid it any attention! Or maybe Kate was just paying too _much _attention.

Kate hated to think it, but it was probably the latter. She was studying Ziva closer than anyone else, and it was showing her everything. Ziva had done a good job of pretending to fall right back into the job, and everyone had stopped worrying. But she was still a person, and Ziva was breaking apart inside.

Maybe Ziva wanted to keep things to herself, but Kate wanted to know. She wanted to know about Salim and Somalia. She wanted to make things better.

Always the perfectionist. Kate had always wanted things to be _just right_. No more, no less. And with Ziva in her depressed funk, well, things weren't _just right_. It was instinct to try and fix it, make things better. It was involuntary.

That was why Kate found herself standing on the corner of the street, the street where Ziva's apartment was. Rain poured down, soaking Kate's hair and chilling her to the bone. Yet she was standing there, letting it happen and wondering if she should go talk to Ziva.

Precipitation ran down Kate's cheeks like tears, rolling over her lips and down her chin. Kate wondered what she looked like to anyone watching- the woman standing on Ziva's corner in the pouring rain. She didn't mind, though. She was too busy sucking up courage to mind.

Feet splashing in puddles, soaking her socks and the hems of her slacks, Kate walked up to Ziva's apartment.

Her stomach clenched almost painfully, as if warning her that this was a bad idea. Kate usually listened to what her gut told her (too much time under Gibbs' wing), but today she forcefully ignored it.

Pursing her lips, Kate walked up to the reception desk. The girl there gave her a strange look, which didn't surprise Kate at all. She was standing there, dripping water onto the floor with makeup running down her cheeks.

"May I...erm...help you?" The girl asked, raising an eyebrow at Kate, then looking at the phone with a silent glare that said it all. 'I'll call the cops if you get too weird, lady.'

Kate rolled her eyes and fished her badge out of her pocket, glad to find that it had stayed dry. She handed it to the girl, "Special Agent Kate Todd. The dark-haired woman that just came in here, can you tell me her room number?"

"Depends. Are you arresting her, and is this going on TV?" The girl asked, studying the badge curiously before shoving back over to Kate quiet ungracefully.

Frowning, Kate said, "No and no. Can you just give me the damn room number?"

"Number 38. Third floor. Calm down lady. Jeez," The girl said. Kate jammed her badge back into her pocket and pursed her lips into a tight, thin line.

Nodding in the girl's direction, Kate thanked her curtly and walked over to the stairs. She climbed up them, the walk seeming to take _forever _with the thoughts occupying Kate's brain. What if she had gotten it all wrong? What if Ziva was fine? What if the other woman ignored her completely, or got angry?

There were so many things to worry about. Kate's list was currently hovering at about three hundred and two.

Three hundred and two things more than Kate wanted to be worrying about. But she was a worrisome person (damn her late mother for giving her those genes), and the feeling of rocks in her stomach wouldn't fade.

Taking a deep breath, Kate forced herself not to run as she stopped in front of Ziva's door. It was plain and wooden, like any other door. Yet it seemed to leer at Kate, drawing her closer and pushing her away at the same time.

Swallowing thickly (and wondering why she was so scared of Ziva), Kate knocked on the door. The sound seemed so much louder than it really was, and Kate had to force back a cringe.

The door opened a moment later, and Ziva stood in the frame. Her eyes were tinged with that pained ring, and her lips were pulled back in one of her broken smiles. Ziva was dressed in a baggy pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. If it weren't for the fake happy expression, Ziva would have looked totally normal- not like an assassin.

"Hey Ziva," Kate said. It didn't take a skilled observer to see that Ziva was confused as to why Kate had shown up at her door at approximately 11:45 p.m. on a Tuesday. It was well-known that Kate never went out later than 11 on weekdays, unless she had a man and a comfortable bed waiting for her. That didn't happen to often anymore.

Ziva kept her broken smile plastered on her face, and it was almost sickening, "Shalom Kate. Come in."

Kate obliged, "Thank you." Walking into Ziva's apartment, Kate took a look around. She had never been in here before, and realized how simple-yet-comfortable it was. The walls were warm colors and the furniture looked inviting. Ziva had gotten new chairs and a new coffee table after the explosion that had blown up her old apartment.

"You have a nice place," Kate said casually, attempting to make some sort of small talk. She was here on serious business, but she really did not want thing to become an awkward meeting. Kate hated awkwardness.

Ziva ignored this, instead saying, "You are soaked. What the hell happened to you?" She grabbed a few towels, and Kate wondered if Ziva really was fine and she was just overreacting or something.

"It's pouring," Kate said casually. It was the truth, after all. The rain was pouring from the sky as if the clouds were mourning something. Kate was curious as to what, and why it seemed to be hurting the huge gray masses in the sky. She had always wondered about the rain. What could make something as big as a cloud cry?

Ziva watched as Kate towel-dried her hair, knowing it would be horrendously frizzy in the morning. She would deal with that later. For now tunnel-vision had taken over and Kate wanted to focus on Ziva and only Ziva.

Pursing her lips, Ziva said, "You could get sick from being wet like this."

"It's okay. If I get sick, at least I have an excuse to take a break for a while. Lord knows I won't get one without a reason besides 'I need a vacation,'" Kate responded, and Ziva sat down in one of the arm chairs after leading a now-drier Kate into the living room.

Ziva sighed and ran a hand through her hair, "You are hear for a reason," She said, and asked quietly, voice grim, "What is that reason, exactly?"

The look Ziva gave Kate was pointed and made chills run down Kate's spine. These chills weren't because Kate was wet and cold, or because she was afraid. There was something almost...sexy about Ziva's icy stare.

Internally beating herself for having such thoughts, Kate pried her eyes away from Ziva's. Her hands suddenly became quite interesting from their spot in Kate's lap, clenching and unclenching with nervousness.

"You've changed," Kate said, letting the words spill from her throat like some sort of badly written song, "You aren't Ziva anymore. You're sad, you fake your smiles, and you're just...a mess. I don't know you anymore, and I can't because you're hiding. You're my best friend Ziva, and I hate to see you like this. I want to know- what happened in Somalia to make you so messed up, so...wrong."

Ziva stared at Kate for several moments. Silence prevailed except for Ziva's heavy breathing and Kate's shifting in her chair. Dark eyes closed as Ziva leaned back in her chair, biting her lip. There were no fake, broken smiles this time. There was only someone who was broken.

Ziva told Kate of being tortured, threatened, raped, beating. The words poured past her lips in startling detail, every once of pain singing into Kate's pores and making her feel it just as strongly as Ziva. Tears were licking down Kate's cheeks as Ziva neared the end of her story- where she had thought quite seriously about killing herself, or begging _them_ to kill her. The tears weren't rain this time.

Kate wrapped her arms around Ziva's small figure, allowing the Israeli to bury her face in Kate's neck. They both cried for Ziva, for the pain and the havoc it had reaked on the usually-happy woman's life. They cried because crying was the only thing they could do, even it made them seem weak.

It hurt, to think of everything that Ziva had been through. It hurt to think that Kate hadn't killed Salim and his bastard terrorist goons herself. It hurt to feel Ziva trembling against her chest, letting out heart-wrenching sobs. Kate's stomach clenched again, and she knew that it was in realization this time.

She wouldn't mind spend every day, standing in the pouring rain on Ziva's street corner. She wouldn't mind unbreaking the broken smiles. She wouldn't mind being there to cry with Ziva, and to help her through all of this mess.

And when they had cried until their throats were raw with soreness and their eyes stung, Kate told Ziva this. The Israeli gave Kate a small smile, broken as ever but still half-genuine. Kate rested her cheek against Ziva's for a second, then kissed the dark-haired woman softly on the lips, "It will all be okay. I'm here for you. I love you."

"I love you too," Ziva responded.

That was the start of repairing. Sure, there would be more broken smiles and nights of crying, but things would get better.

Kate had never been more positive of anything.

**Typed up in an hour. Sorry for any mistakes. Feel free to tell me.**

**Funny how a friend singing 'She Will Be Loved' over the phone can inspire you.**

**Reviews make my world go round, seriously.**


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